The Diary of Pansy Parkinson
by Ariana Malfoy- Lestrange
Summary: The diary of Pansy Parkinson, albeit a stalkerslightlymadshallower Pansy than you think you know. What will she do when her beloved Draco dumps her for girl!Blaise Zabini? Enlist the help of gay!Lockhart, among other drastic measures? Why, of course!
1. Default Chapter

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned: The Diary of Pansy Parkinson  
  
August 19 1998, right before bed, 11:56pm- This is completely ridiculous. The only reason I'm writing in a stupid book is because of him. Apparently, the psychologist I have, Healer Therese Gandywise, insists that I write in a 'diary' to let out my inner feelings about a certain Draco Malfoy, instead of acting on said feelings. You see, Draco filed another restraining order against me, last week. Since it's the fifth time in eight weeks, the Wizengamot ordered me to seek mental help. Whatever. I so wasn't stalking him. I should know, because I specifically researched what is considered stalking, in the Great Big Book of What is Considered Stalking, and nowhere, does it say that standing outside said stalkee's bedroom window and reciting heartfelt, emotional poetry at 4:28am, is considered stalking. I was accused on a mere technicality, of trying to climb into his window, to recite more previously mentioned poetry.  
  
Draco still loves me; I know he does. Deep, deep, very deep down inside he knows it too. At least, I hope he does.  
  
Well, I should go now. It's time for my nightly ritual of writing lovesick poems to my darling Draco. And yes, these poems got me in trouble in the first place.  
  
August 20 1998, middle of the day, 1:13pm-  
  
Once again writing in this wretched diary. I am bored out of my mind; there is absolutely nothing to do in the Manor right now. I've already sent three owls to Draco, no response from him yet.  
  
Still no response.  
  
Mrs. Draco Malfoy  
  
Mrs. Malfoy  
  
Mrs. Pansy Vivienne Malfoy  
  
Mrs. Pansy Malfoy  
  
Draco and Pansy Malfoy  
  
Still no response.  
  
August 22 1998, after dinner, 7:51pm-  
  
My life is officially over. I can barely write this, but Draco...my Draco...is dating Blaise Zabini! The horror of it all! Blaise Zabini, my now ex best friend. It's not like she's pretty, even. Well, I guess she is, but just a bit. Oh, who am I kidding? Blaise Zabini is the prettiest girl in Slytherin House, and she knows it. It's not my fault I wasn't born with worship- worthy hanging in perfect, slight ripples down to the waist, glossy, red- gold hair, or with a creamy complexion, no acne or freckles. It's not my fault that my eyes aren't that perfect shade of midnight blue.  
  
Funny, I'd always thought that if it had been anybody else besides me, he would have gone for a blonde. But nooo...he has to go for red heads!  
  
I am seriously considering entering a convent, and becoming a nun.  
  
August 22 1998, 3:47am-  
  
Just realized cannot become a nun; black isn't the most complimentary color on me. Will keep on thinking...  
  
August 23 1998, breakfast, 9:39am-  
  
On a hunger strike.  
  
List of Possible options:  
  
Cut off all my hair with sewing scissors, and go insane and carve Draco+ Pansy forever into walls. Enter a convent, and never go outside again. Throw myself off a window. Write a heart-wrenching poem, so heart wrenching that when he reads it; he'll have to dump Blaise, and go out with me. Chain myself to his gates, and refuse to move until he agrees to go out with me. Eat so many Honeyduke chocolates and sweets that I become disgustingly fat, and he will never want to see me again. Go into hiding, and breed killer bunnies. Feel incredibly sorry for myself and squander my entire inheritance in Gladrags, under less than an hour. Write in this stupid journal.  
  
Clearly, I cannot do most of these for obvious reasons.  
  
I can't do number one, because, then I'd be bald, and everyone knows I'm allergic to synthetic hair. Oh, and last time I tried carving words into wood, I broke my nail, and I couldn't go insane because the mental hospital gowns are seriously ugly. So that wouldn't work either.  
  
Can't do number two, because like I said, black does not suit me, and I need to go outside to tan every week or so.  
  
Number three I can't do, because I'm scared of heights.  
  
I would do number four, except for the fact that my poems are really bad, and probably would never be considered heart wrenching.  
  
Couldn't do number five, because then I'd miss my weekly subscription to Witch Weekly, and I have to find out if Nick Gorgoris has proposed to Venhisria Bourbond. Apparently, he was seen buying a huge diamond ring at a certain expensive jeweler in Paris...  
  
Number six sounds fairly plausible...except that I can't get fat. The Parkinson's are known for their amazing metabolism.  
  
As for number seven...I don't like bunnies.  
  
I probably could do number eight, but I've seen Gladrags's latest fall collection, and it's almost all in colors that look completely awful on me.  
  
I am doing number nine right now, so I guess that really doesn't count.  
  
Going to hunt for caramel chocolate, hunger strike is officially over.  
  
August 23 1998, after dinner, 8:05pm-  
  
I ate three full boxes of assorted Honeydukes chocolate, eight Chocolate Frogs, two packs of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, one Cauldron cake, four Pumpkin Pasties, eleven Licorice Wands, and five Sugar Quills.  
  
Feelingly oddly bloated.  
  
August 24 1998, 2:41am-  
  
Couldn't sleep. Got up to go weigh myself. Gained absolutely no pounds since before Draco went out with Blaise. Told you about the amazing metabolism.  
  
August 24 1998, 2:48am-  
  
Still can't sleep.  
  
August 24 1998, 4:57am-  
  
Why doesn't he love me? Why??  
  
August 24 1998, 5:04am-  
  
It's because I have brown hair, isn't it? I knew he always wanted a blonde. All Malfoys are blond. Oh wait, Blaise is a red head...  
  
August 24 1998, 5:29am-  
  
I've got it! I know why he doesn't want me! It's because Blaise is prettier than me! I mean, not that much prettier, but she still is prettier than me. So, now all I have to do is become prettier than Blaise, and Draco will want me again! It's so simple, and yet, so perfectly brilliant! The question is, how?  
  
Whatever. I'll figure it out tomorrow, way too tired right now to think of anything but Draco.  
  
August 24 1998, 3:53pm-  
  
I've been trying to come up with ideas all day. I need a makeover, but whom should I hire to do the actual makeover? I could hire a celebrity stylist, but I don't want to look like a celebrity. I just want to look better than Blaise. Is that so hard to accomplish? I would like to do it myself, but I always need a second opinion.  
  
Oh! I just had the most genius idea ever! I know exactly whom I should ask to help me with this transformation...  
  
August 24 1998, 6:41pm- Well, I'm back. I just visited Gilderoy Lockhart's Image consulting firm. I know he was hospitalized a couple of years ago, but he's out now, and completely fine, though occasionally he will space out. This is basically what happened.  
  
I walked into a large, bright white room, decorated with hints of aquamarine. Sitting primly at a modern, geometric desk was a thin blonde woman, wearing pristine white sequined robes. Her shiny hair was pulled back into a bun, and the glittery nametag she wore said: My Name is Jade.  
  
I ventured over to her desk. "Um, hello Jade. My name is Pansy Parkinson, and I'd like to schedule an appointment with Gilderoy Lockhart."  
  
Her ice blue eyes flickered over me for an instant. "Since this is an emergency, Gilderoy can see you now."  
  
My mouth dropped open in shock. An emergency? Sure, I wasn't the prettiest person ever, but I wasn't completely hideous, was I? Apparently.  
  
She led me through a frosted glass door, and gestured to a seat.  
  
I sat down, and waited for Gilderoy Lockhart. I didn't have to wait long.  
  
"Oh my gosh, Pansy Parkinson, is that you? Sweetie, I haven't seen you in forever!" A blond man in stylish aqua robes, whom I didn't recognize, kissed me on both cheeks.  
  
Did I mention that Gilderoy Lockhart turned out to be gay?  
  
I was thoroughly bewildered. But there was something about that smile that I had seen before... "Professor Lockhart? Is that you?"  
  
Professor Lockhart beamed. "None of this Professor stuff. Call me Gilderoy, I insist. Now, Pansy, what did you want to see me about?"  
  
I blushed. "I wanted an image consultant, because I have to win the love of my life back."  
  
Gilderoy looked interested. "Oooo, who is it?"  
  
My lip trembled. "Draco. Draco Malfoy." I looked down at the shiny white marble floor.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, the blond Slytherin? Oh, he's was a cute little thing! No wonder you want him back. What happened?"  
  
I really didn't mean to, but I found myself telling Gilderoy all about what happened; the stalking, the Blaise, and the inordinate amount of food I had consumed since then.  
  
"And so, I really want him back, and to do that, I have to become prettier than Blaise, and that's no small accomplishment..." I said, wiping away tears with the scented pink tissue that Gilderoy had given me.  
  
He patted me soothingly on the back. "Shh...it's okay. Gilderoy will make you so gorgeous, that Draco won't be able to resist you!"  
  
I gestured at myself. "Are you sure you can make something out of this?"  
  
Gilderoy nodded. "Gilderoy Lockhart is a miracle worker. He can do anything."  
  
"If you say so." I said, doubtfully.  
  
Gilderoy immediately began telling me about his six steps to a makeover success.  
  
Learn what you don't like about yourself. Change what you don't like about yourself. Learn what other people don't like about you. Change yourself so that people like you. Gain new self-confidence. Test the new you!  
  
One of our house elves, Hinky or whatever her name is calling me for dinner. Will continue later! 


	2. In which a lot more things happen

August 24, after dinner, 8:55pm-  
  
Back. Sorry it took so long, had to spend exactly eleven minutes, and thirty-one seconds trying to get a particularly tough piece of roasted, herb-stuffed chicken, with wild rice, and mashes potatoes on the side, out of my upper front teeth.  
  
Now, where was I?  
  
Oh, yes, I remember now. I was at the part after Gilderoy's six steps to a makeover success! Catchy phrase, isn't it?  
  
Okay, so in accordance to step number one, I had to find out what was I disliked about myself. So, he had me make a list. (I like lists!)  
  
Here was my list:  
  
Category: Looks-  
  
The shape of my face. Jealous, envious enemies of mine might call it slightly pug-dog shaped. I would call it, round, and it used to be sort of squished, but I outgrew that. My hair. It's rather lifeless, and sort of dead, dull, and quite ugly. But at least it's straight, not bushy, like some smart-ass Gryffindor chipmunks I could name. I know this is totally weird, but I absolutely hate my ankles. They're bony, and well...bony.  
  
Category: Personality-  
  
Well, I could probably list a whole bunch of things, but, since I'm a Slytherin, I do enjoy being evil, mean, sarcastic, rude, snobby, annoying, irritable, and all the other bad things you could possibly think about a person. But since I like that part of me, it doesn't count.  
  
Category: Any other thing you happen to dislike-  
  
The way I laugh. It's very shrill and horse like.  
  
When I was done making the list, I handed it to Gilderoy, who read over  
it, sometimes frowning, or going "Hmm..." or "Yes, I thought that..." or  
making little notes on his pastel pink notepad.  
I saw he was at the part about my personality, and he opened his mouth to  
say something, but I interrupted him. "This is just to get Draco back.  
All I want to do is look prettier than Blaise Zabini, get rid of my  
laugh, and that's all. I'm not here to become some goody-two shoes, who's  
kind to everybody. No, I'm here to win Draco Malfoy back, and that is  
all. Do we understand each other?"  
  
Gilderoy wisely nodded, and said nothing. Perhaps he has a radar for  
detecting women who PMS, which is what I was most certainly doing at the  
moment. But really, could you blame me?  
  
He clapped his perfectly manicured hands together, and said, perkily, "  
Well, let's get started then!"  
  
I looked at him in disbelief. "We're getting started now? Right now?"  
  
"Yes, we don't have much time to work after all. School starts in..."  
  
Suddenly, a blank look replaced his perky one. Gilderoy focused hard on  
the wall, completely silent.  
  
"Uh... Gilderoy? Gilderoy?" I waved my hand in front of his face a couple  
of times. Just as sudden as he had blanked out, he was back to himself  
again.  
  
"What? Oh, sorry...I got distracted there for a moment. As I was saying,  
school starts in a week or two, so we don't have much time. Now, the  
first thing on your list...the shape of your head...hmm..." He walked around  
me. "Okay, you just need a different haircut, maybe to elongate your  
face a little, lengthen your forehead, and minimize your cheekbones.  
Let's go to my absolute favorite salon, Deurcroix and Domauix, they have  
the best trims ever, and the décor is so gorgeous...very minimalist."  
  
Before I could say or do anything, Gilderoy had grabbed me by my arm, and  
out the door, on to the crowded London streets.  
  
He pulled me across the street, and into a large, white building.  
Gilderoy didn't even bother to make an appointment with the unsmiling  
receptionist. Instead, he simply opened a small door and led me through.  
For a second, I thought there was absolutely nothing in the room, because  
it looked all white, and stuff. Then I realized that it was just because  
everything was white- white furniture, white walls, white floors...and all  
the same shade of white too!  
  
"Jessabelle!" He yelled. "Jessabelle, love, are you here? It's  
Gilderoy..."  
  
A woman, who I assumed to be Jessabelle, came into the room. She was of  
medium height, with long black hair, that was twisted into a complicated  
up-do. Jessabelle was really quite pretty, except for her hideous  
eyebrows. They were extremely thick, and extremely hairy. She allowed  
herself to be kissed on both cheeks by Gilderoy, who was beaming.  
  
"Pansy, I cannot tell you how lucky we are to have gotten Jessabelle  
here. She is an absolute genius with hair, like um... Hermione Granger is  
like a genius at learning stuff." Gilderoy gushed.  
  
I scowled at the mention of the Mudblood. Gilderoy flashed a stunning  
smile at me.  
  
"Oh, I totally forgot, sweetie. Hermione Granger isn't your most  
favorite person." He said, leading me to a white chair.  
  
"That's the understatement of the year." I muttered, under my breath. I  
wondered what Jessabelle, and her eyebrows were making out of this odd  
conversation.  
  
She simply raised those scary eyebrows at the strange analogy Gilderoy  
made, but said nothing.  
  
I was fascinated by her eyebrows...they were so horrifyingly large...I  
decided to name them.  
  
Erwina was the right eyebrow, and Francesco would be the left eyebrow.  
  
Gilderoy was telling Jessabelle what kind of haircut he wanted for me.  
  
I could hear snatches of their conversation. "Deep root conditioning...some of that tea tree oil combination rinse...I'm thinking long layers to elongate her face..." Gilderoy was saying, while Jessabelle was examining my hair, nodding intently. She pulled out her wand, muttered something under her breath, and out of nowhere, bubbles appeared on my head, massaged by an invisible being. The shampoo smelled of vanilla, and I closed my eyes, and relaxed. This was nice.  
  
The bubbles were gone, I was leaned back, and somebody rinsed my hair, and then put some kind of green, creamy stuff in it, rubbing it vigorously into my scalp.  
  
I glanced at Jessabelle out of the corner of my eye. She was lounged on a soft white couch, looking very bored, and occasionally flicking or directing her wand.  
  
The rubbing has stopped; my head is slightly dried with a fluffy towel.  
  
Jessabelle strides over. "Long layers?" She asks Gilderoy, who was busy in reading the new Witch Weekly, on which he was on the cover again, as a Best Smile Award Winner. He nodded.  
  
I took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready." Shutting my eyes as tight as I could, I prayed that it would look good.  
  
"So, why do you want a makeover? Gilderoy only brings us his clients." Said Jessabelle. I can hear the sounds of hair falling to the floor.  
  
"I need to win Draco Malfoy back." Maybe I should just wear a neon sign hanging around my neck that says, "I'm doing all this because I have to win the love of my life back, Draco Malfoy." But, that would probably just mean another restraining order...  
  
She suddenly sounds a lot more interested. "Draco Malfoy? But, he's one of our best customers! He comes here all the time."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes! He has the best hair I've ever seen!" An angry noise from the corner where Gilderoy was reading could be heard. "I mean, second only to Gilderoy, of course..." She says, hastily.  
  
I smile. Of course Draco has the best hair. He has the best everything...  
  
"All done." Jessabelle says, interrupting my musings about Draco.  
  
Biting my lip, I slowly open my eyes, and glance at my reflection in the mirror.  
  
My mouth drops open in utter shock. Suddenly, my hair is silkier, straighter, making my face look longer, less round...and I have cheekbones!  
  
My eyes seem bigger, my lips seem fuller, and my nose is less squished.  
  
She is a miracle worker. I need to proclaim that to the world.  
  
I let out an excited squeal. Gilderoy is beaming, and Jessabelle looks haughtily proud.  
  
"Thank you! Oh, thank you! I look absolutely fabulous!" I jump up and hug Jessabelle, which is rather unlike me.  
  
Gilderoy motions to the door. "Pansy, we'd better get going. Jessabelle, darling, you are as lovely as ever, thank you so much, love!" He kisses her twice on each cheek.  
  
"Charge it to the Parkinson's Gringott's vault, number 802." I say, half way out the door before I stop, and realize something. "Jessabelle, are you by any chance related to Viktor Krum?"  
  
Jessabelle smiles. "Yes, second cousin."  
  
"Thought so." That's were the eyebrows came from...  
  
Gilderoy eventually dragged me out of the salon, and made sure I Flooed home. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow at 10:00am sharp. Be here, we need to work on the next part of the list. Ciao, sweetie!"  
  
So, I'm back in Parkinson Manor, and I'm extremely tired, so I think I'll go to bed. A makeover can be exhausting... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --- 


End file.
